Mother's Day is a very special day for honouring and celebrating Mothers around the world. I hope you enjoy the BEST collection of funny emails, videos, jokes, free pictures and beautiful animations, gift ideas, Mother's Day poems and my tribute to all Mothers. Happy Mother's Day! Happy Mothering Day
Enjoy! FUN Feliz Dia das Mães- 母の日お楽しみ - Fun Fête des Mères, Diversão Dia das Mães

This powerful Proclamation was made by Julia Ward Howe in the advocacy for the need of official celebration of Mother's Day in Boston, United States of America in 1870. Miss Howe was the first person in US to recognize the need for Mother's Day holiday. She was successful in raising awareness amongst the masses and pushing her plead to the upper echelons of power.

Following this very potent Proclamation made in 1870, the Mothers' Peace Day Observance was held on the second Sunday in June, 1872. Such observances began to take place each year thereafter and paved the way for Mothers' Day Holiday in US on the second Sunday of May.

Though Ms Howe could not herself get the day recognized as the official holiday, she is revered for her significant contributions towards the celebration of the day and for bestowing honor on mothers.

Julia Ward Howe is also famous as the writer of the Civil War song, 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic'.

Mothers' Day Proclamation
Arise, then, women of this day! Arise all women who have hearts, whether your baptism be of water or of tears! Say firmly: "We will not have questions decided by irrelevant agencies. Our husbands shall not come to us reeking of carnage for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy, and patience. We women of one country will be too tender to those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

From the bosom of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with our own. It says "Disarm! Disarm!" The sword of murder is not the balance of justice. Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.

As men have forsaken the plow and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of counsel. Let them meet first as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, each bearing after his time the sacred impress not of Caesar, but of God.

In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask that a general congress of women without limit of nationality be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient and at the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.

M-O-T-H-E-R
"M" is for the million things she gave me,
"O" means only that she's growing old,
"T" is for the tears she shed to save me,
"H" is for her heart of purest gold;
"E" is for her eyes, with love-light shining,
"R" means right, and right she'll always be,
Put them all together, they spell "MOTHER,"
A word that means the world to me.

If you send this to just one person, it should make it all the way around by Mother’s Day.

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal bleachers at football games Friday night instead of watching from cars, so that when their kids asked, “Did you see me?” they could say, “Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, “It’s OK honey, Mommy’s here.”

This is for all the mothers of Kosovo who fled in the night and can’t find their children.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they’ll never see.

And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

For all the mothers of the victims of the Colorado shooting, and the mothers of the murderers.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes.

And all the mothers who DON’T.

What makes a good Mother anyway?

Is it patience?

Compassion?

Broad hips?

The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it heart?

Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?

The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a school shooting, a fire, a car accident, a baby dying?

So this is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies.

And for all the mothers who wanted to but just couldn’t.

This is for reading “Goodnight, Moon” twice a night for a year. And then reading it again. “Just one more time.”

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair and stomp their feet like a tired 2-year old who wants ice cream before dinner.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

For all the mothers who bite their lips sometimes until they bleed – when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

Who lock themselves in the bathroom when babies keep crying and won’t stop.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for all mothers whose heads turn automatically when a little voice calls “Mom?” in a crowd, even though they know their own off spring are at home.

This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their children’s graves.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can’t find the words to reach them.

This is for all the mothers who sent their sons to school with stomachaches, assuring them they’d be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation.